


Focus

by PrimaryScavQueen



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Mentions of past abuse, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/PrimaryScavQueen
Summary: Jennifer needs focus, Deacon provides what she needs.





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: This is what it is. I've been in an off place writing but I've missed 12 Monkeys and this scene has been in my head for a long time. I wrote this almost a year ago and hated it but I've fixed it up and now I don't hate it so much. Unbeta-ed. Feedback is appreciated.

They’re together, a united force once more. Even Jennifer is back with them. Returning with a flourish, with an untampered joy that he has missed. But the repercussions of Cassie and Cole’s betrayal still linger as they work against their enemy. The Real Witness. Jennifer had warned them. But no one listened to her. Even him. A mistake he won’t make again. But now the truth has been unleashed, secrets laid bare. 

He warned them about secrets. No one listened to him either. 

Nothing is the same. But it’s for the better, it has to be. Now they’re all on equal footing. Maybe shit could actually be accomplished instead of fighting amongst themselves. They spent too much time fighting themselves and not the Army of the 12 Monkeys. He’s ready to rain down hell. The urge to spill their blood moves through his hands like an ache. He wants to hit something. He needs to do something with his hands. Violence calls, his second nature. His gut instinct. Honed by his father.

He could always find Hannah, Whitley, Cole, hell, even Cassie to spar with. They’re as restless as he is, downtime has that toll on their collective psyche. Climbing to his feet, he heads to his bunker door and opens it, finding Jennifer standing there. Her hair is matted in spots, other spots have fly ways standing nearly straight up. She’s paler than normal, milky skin nearly translucent. Her dark eyes, always big and expressive, are moving rapidly around, nearly as fast as the words that are falling from her trembling lips.  
He strains to hear them, lifts her chin with the crook of his fingers. She’s not here with him. Not yet.

“Jennifer? Jennifer? C’mon back. I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what you need.” He keeps his voice gentler than normal, yelling doesn’t cut through the voices in her head. He’s spent enough time with her to figure that out. She’s better to find him if he’s quiet amongst the loud.

After a few moments, she stills. Eyes snap to his. They’re so dark it’s like looking into the void, deep and endless. “I need focus.”

He nods. “What can I do?”

Her lift hand jerks up and there’s a length of rope held tight in her fist. “Kinbaku.” Her voice is a soft hiss, “Tight binding.” 

His throat feels thick and he swallows. She hadn’t needed to translate the word. He had known it; had a lover once who had a thing for it. He hasn’t done it in years but it’s not something he ever forgot. It would give him something to do with his hands. Shifting, he moves a step back so she can come inside.  
She ferrets in and he shuts the door. The rope is thrust into his face, so close to his nose he can nearly smell the fibers. He takes it from her hands and tosses it onto the bed. Her eyes follow the movement and she tilts her head.

“First things first, I want your hair up, don’t want it to get tangled in the rope.” He tells her, “Right now, it looks like you’ve been electrocuted.” 

A gruff laugh bursts forth followed by a snort. “Been there, done that…” She points to her head, tapping with a long nail.

His stomach twists and he says nothing. Nothing he could say now would make up for her treatment in the psych ward. Instead he finds his hair brush and sits down in chair, gesturing for her to sit in front of him. She plots down with a soft huff that could be a laugh. Running the brush through her long hair takes some time but she’s surprisingly patient as he works. She sits still and stays mostly quiet. Occasionally she hums softly, sometimes he follows the melody. Those times he can see her smile in the small mirror across from them.

When the bristles are moving smooth and all the knots are gone, he sets the brush down. Jennifer surprises him by pulling a hair tie from somewhere and holding it up to him between two fingers.

Taking it and tucking it between his teeth, he gathers her dark hair, now like silk under his fingers, and winds it into a bun at her crown. It’s a bit sloppy but this…this, he’s been out of practice with far longer than tying rope.

“Does the Scav King have a secret former life as a stylist?” Her voice is soft and husky.

He snorts. “Hardly. I use to help my mom sometimes…” Memories surface of her hand wrapped in bandages, shaking as the pain medicine starts to wear off. Her brittle but pleased smile when he finishes securing her hair back in its typical braid. Her green eyes that try to hide the pain but are so far gone that pain is all he can see…

“Oh.” Jennifer doesn’t push or ask him to elaborate further, “I see.” 

Deacon rises to his feet and he wonders if she really does see it. See his past. He doesn’t know how the visions work with her. But she’s always known things in the past; the old her, The Mother. He moves to the bed and grabs the rope. Jennifer is still on her knees, watching him with unreadable dark eyes. Licking his lips, he inclines his head towards the bed and gets to her feet with an unexpected grace.

“I’m going to keep this basic, okay?” He tells her softly.

“I trust you.” 

The words surprise him, startle him. Relieve him. Exhaling softly, he nods, idly coiling the rope around his hand.

“My safety word is peaches.” She continues and his eyes dart down to her in amusement.

Jennifer grins and does that oddly adorable snort laugh. She lifts her arms at him and he begins. Guiding her arms behind her back, he makes a single column cuff that binds both wrists together. Running the tail of the rope up and over her right shoulder. He brings the tie across her chest and brings it under the opposite arm pit. His mind drifts as his hands unconsciously weave the rope back through the cuff and repeat the process all over again.

His jeans begin to get tighter, his body remembering the sexual component this held for him once. But he ignores it as he methodically works on finishing the cross-chest box tie. His dick isn’t important here. She is. She’s trusting him to guide her back. When he’s finished, he gets off the bed and moves around to face Jennifer. Her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful.

“How’s that?” He asks.

Her eyes open. “You do excellent work.” Dark eyes drop down to his crotch, “Your penis thinks so too.” 

He shrugs. “It has a mind of its own.” He crosses the room and lowers himself back into the chair, his hands reaching across the small table to his whetstone and his hunting knife. He catches her watching as he sharpens the blade. 

“I feel clearer.” Her eyes drift shut, “Between you and the rope, things are less chaotic.” 

“Good.” He tests the sharpness of the tip against his palm; a barely noticeable sting lights fire to his skin. Perfect. Deadly. “Let me know when you want me to cut you out.” 

She’s quiet for a minute. “Not yet. I like my cocoon. It’s comfortable.” 

He’d worry but there’s a smile on her lips, one of contentment. She looks peaceful. Given her nature, being a part of time, she damn well deserves a bit of peace.

Later, as the last of the rope is uncoiled from her body and discarded to the floor, Jennifer wraps him in a hug. He returns it, letting his body relax. 

“Can I stay?” Her voice is quiet, “Please?”

“Yeah.” He lets his chin rest on the top of her head, “You can stay.”


End file.
